


Watch Your Mouth

by Skalidra



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Meetings, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 17:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12635406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: Jason's mark has been branded across his back since he was about five, and as normal as that is the words that make it up are decidedly not normal. He's hated it most of his life, but he's always sort of wondered what kind of person would have the very first words their soulmate hears from them be 'Son of a bitch'. He's about to find out.





	Watch Your Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, day two! So, day two of this JayRoy Week is the prompt, 'Marks'. Well, I'm never one to pass up a chance for a soulmate AU. Enjoy!
> 
> [You can find my Tumblr here!](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)

Jason’s first visit to the Titan’s tower doesn’t go exactly as planned. The first few minutes are great, Dick at his side and hand on his shoulder, nearly literally under his wing as he introduces him to famous hero after famous hero. He’s thrilled. He’s nearly vibrating with how happy he is, and he’s soaring _so_ high when suddenly it all comes to a screeching halt.

Koriand’r is smiling down at him the moment it happens, commenting that she likes the changes in the uniform and is very pleased to meet him. (And _Christ_ , she’s enormous. Hot and with her boobs in his _face_ as she bends over. Jason has only been so thankful for his cup before on one or two encounters with Poison Ivy.)

The shouted, “Son of a _bitch!_ ” from some room around the corner freezes him in place, and not because it sounds somewhere between pissed and upset. No, it’s because he’s had ‘Son of a bitch’ tattooed across his back since he hit about five and he’s considered it prophetic and kind of cool at turns, and sometimes hated it with every fiber of his being, but he’s always sort of wondered what kind of person would have that be the very first thing their soulmate hears from them.

Until _now_.

Dick turns towards the sound with a hissed, “ _Damnit_ , Roy,” but Jason is already moving.

He ducks out from under Dick’s arm with a practiced swivel of movement, heart rising to his throat as he heads towards that voice and everything he’s pretty sure it means. Dick calls for him, sounding as worried as a real brother, but this time Jason ignores it. He’s pretty sure that after this, whatever lecture he would have gotten for not listening isn’t going to matter even slightly.

When he comes around the corner it’s to an open kitchen area, and standing behind the island in the center is a tall man grimacing down at his own bare chest. It’s automatic for Jason to catalogue all the important details, and the flashes of information pause him for a moment as he looks.

A year or two older than Dick. Short red hair. Tattoos on the outside of both shoulders. Excellent muscle definition on a frame just slightly leaner than Dick’s. _Intense_ arm strength, judging by those muscles. Green eyes and freckled skin, scowling down at what looks like at least a half-cup of what might be milk splashed across his chest and dripping down towards the ground. One hand is holding a jug cracked open at one side and also dripping bits of milk.

Accident. No real harm done. Maybe a practical joke?

Then his mind snaps back to the point of this, and his teeth grit together. He can hear Dick step up behind him, and the lighter footstep of Koriand’r (fliers rarely walk loudly), and he jerks forward before either of them can stop him. His back feels like it’s heating, and he can’t tell if it’s a phantom sensation or not but anger twists up his throat either way.

Every stupid joke, every insult, every _fucking_ comment from his dad about his mom because of this mark… And it’s _this_ guy’s fault. _He_ did this.

The man looks up, scowl turning to confusion and maybe slight embarrassment as he sees them all. Jason picks up the closest thing at hand — a wooden spoon from a jar of them near the door — and chucks it at the guy. The fact that the guy ducks instantly, jug hitting the ground with a splashing sort of smack and spoon bouncing off the fridge behind him, does nothing to alleviate how pissed Jason is finding that he is.

“Jason!” Dick snaps from behind him, a hand curling into the cape at his shoulder and pulling him back half a step. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Jason wrenches away from the hold, stalking forward with a snarl and letting all that anger loose in a loud, “Fucking _bastard!_ ” The man freezes like he’s under the laser sight of a sniper rifle. “These stupid words on my back are because of some _milk?_ Are you _kidding_ me?!”

The island is still between them, and Jason seriously considers jumping it to punch that stupid pale jaw and shut the wide green eyes, but then the man gives a little laugh and shakes his head. Shock goes to something like wonder, and so Jason just glares at him as the man shifts to face the island, left arm extending across the counter. At first he thinks it might be for a handshake, which he is _not_ taking, but then it presses flat to the counter, palm up and black, printed words across the underside of his lower arm bared.

‘Fucking bastard’.

The man smiles down at him, looking somewhere between embarrassed and on the verge of laughing. “Hi. I uh, guess you heard me, huh?”

Jason blinks down at the bared mark. “I… Didn’t really think that through,” he admits quietly.

“Seems fair.” The hand turns, now offering that handshake. “I’m Roy.”

He hesitates, but takes it. “Jason.”

There’s a footstep behind him, boot on the tile of the kitchen, and Roy lets go and steps back like he’s been burned. “Dick, I swear to god I had no idea.”

Jason looks back in time to hear Dick say, with a small frown, “I know. Come on, Jason, we’re going to head back to Gotham. You can meet the rest of the Titans later.”

“But—”

Now Dick really looks down at him, gives a tight smile. “You’re fourteen, Little Wing. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know him, but it’s going to have to be later. Roy and I need to talk first.”

“Can’t you just talk while I stand in another room?” he complains.

Roy’s the one that speaks, leaning onto the counter. “Hey, it’s fine. They’re not going to hold you hostage in Gotham, right?” Jason's gaze catches on the milk still splashed on Roy's chest, dripping down onto the counter now that he's leaned over it. He hesitates. Roy smiles. "No rush, buddy."

Dick's hand clasps over his shoulder, not quite tugging, but Jason gets the intent. It's reluctant, but he agrees. "Alright. Fine. I'll go."

"Thank you," Dick says, and now there's pressure on his shoulder, pulling him back. Jason goes, but he takes a last look back at Roy before he does.

His _soulmate_. He wants to know more. Wants to see if there's any chance that this actually turns out like the classics he's read. It can happen, right? Soulmates are supposed to be forever. The perfect match.

He wants to _know_.

* * *

It's years before Jason ever really gets the chance. Sure, he gets the one meeting with Roy after they figure things out. Escorted by Dick, and whatever the hell they talked about means Roy doesn't say much. It's not disappointing exactly, but it's not that much fun.

Then everything goes to shit, and, well… that's that. He's dead, then he's brain-dead, then he's learning how to make _other_ people dead in better ways, so he doesn't give much thought to it. Some of his teachers comment or laugh at the words printed between his shoulder blades. Sometimes he cares, for a second or to. But if you react then you make yourself a target, so he doesn't.

In the days after his run in with Bruce, while his neck is healing and he's hiding from anyone or anything that might out his whereabouts, his thoughts start to stray. He starts thinking about those words on his back, and what they mean. Starts to think about his memory of green eyes and a smile and black printed words across a muscled forearm. He starts to… wonder.

How Jason ends up outside the door of a normal-looking apartment, three stories up in a nondescript building, he's not entirely sure. Why he knocks, he has more of a reason for.

It takes a few moments to open. The green eyes are the same, but the red hair is longer, bound into a messy bun. He seems smaller now, shorter; it takes Jason a couple disorienting moments to realize it's because he's so much taller and broader than he was as Robin. He's still getting used to that; looking down instead of up.

He swallows, watching the confused, narrowed eyes turn to surprised realization.

"Hi," he offers, awkwardly. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other like he hasn't in years, forcing himself not to shove his hands in the pockets of his jacket because he knows that might come off as threatening thanks to whatever Roy might have heard. He's sure the bats have told stories about him, or it's leaked somehow. They're private, but superhero communities are hard to keep secrets from.

"Jason? I— Wow." There's a sweeping pass of his gaze, head to feet and taking all of him in. "Dick mentioned when he told me about what happened but you really did get _big_."

It sounds surprised, but there's not the defensiveness Jason was expecting. Thinks he was expecting. He… doesn't quite understand any of this but he's here and it's too late so he just has to figure it out.

"Yeah." He scuffs a boot along the floor, taking glances at the tattoos on Roy's shoulders and remembering all the lines and curves. "Growth spurt, I guess."

There's a moment of silence between them. Roy is the one to break it, with a hand bracing on the door frame and a murmur of, "After all that… I didn't expect to see you. No one's seen you since Gotham. What are you doing here?"

He shrugs, loses the fight with himself and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Just… been thinking. Remembering. Trying to… find what I might still have left." He shifts, lifts his gaze to meet Roy's for a moment and say, "I'm not fifteen any more."

"No," Roy agrees. "You're not." There's a pause, a flicker of Roy's gaze down his chest and back up. Then, "Are you still a son of a bitch?"

It catches Jason off guard. For a second he stumbles, words catching in his throat. It takes clearing it before he can appreciate the humor and give a tiny, crooked smirk. "Yeah. You still a fucking bastard?"

Roy's smirk is nearly wide enough to be a grin. "Always. We never really got a chance to talk, did we?"

Jason shakes his head.

"Well then, want to come in?"


End file.
